Deepest Secrets
by I-O-U-a-picture
Summary: John Watson has been missing for 5 years along with his daughter after his wife was found dead. What happened? Where are they? They are forgotten from everyone's minds. Then one day Sherlock meets a Mike and Marie Cooper who have a treasure trove of secrets that they are not willing to share. Who are they? Or will an enemy from the past threaten before they can tell their story?
1. Prologue

**Deepest Secrets**

Prologue

'Hello, Johnny boy. Have a nice nap?' The singsong voice of the man dressed in a Westwood suit. 'Remember that promise I made you? Well, since I'm soooo changeable, I thought you would like to see it carried out!' A hand pulled Johns head to look into the abyss of his captures eyes. John tried to pull away but he was backhanded. John rubbed his face.

'The SAS trained you well, eh, Johnny. Shame they couldn't prepare you for what's going to happen…' The voice had deepened and betrayed his Irish accent.

'What the hell do you what?' John spat out, his voice horse and husky with ill-use.

'Oh! The soldier speaks,' The Irishman chuckled before becoming deadly serious. 'You know what I want. Unfortunately, it's your poor family that will suffer. Mary will die. Samantha will suffer or die… I'm not sure yet.' He looked at his watch before rising, 'Your SAS buddies will be here soon.'

The man moved away from John and headed towards the door. He stopped just short of it, hand resting on the handle. 'Tell anyone about this and Mary will die within hours along with your daughter. Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?'

John half-heartedly nodded before his eyes closed and everything went black.

* * *

'MARY!' John knew she wouldn't answer. She had been shot in the heart. She was dead. 'Nonononono,' he whispered.

'Told you it would happen,' A voice whispered in his ears. 'Now, daughter. I don't want to see either of you for as long as you both live.'

The hands holding John were release him. John stole one last look at his wife. Letting out a shaky breath, he ran to find his child.

'The names Moriarty.' Came the voice that would haunt John's nightmares.

* * *

******A/N This chapter has been beta'd by IzzyDelta**


	2. Chapter 1 Meeting unexpected and otherw

**Deepest Secrets**

_5 years later_

'Dad, you sure London's a good idea?' A teenager asked quietly to the man sat opposite.

'Yes. It's big, easy to get lost in. Not many people we know lived there so no one _should_ remember us. It is a very big city.'

The teenage girl nodded her head causing some her strawberry blond hair to become loose. She tucked the loose strands back behind her ear. She turned her attention back to the passing scenery from the train window. 'Okay. Who are we this time?'

'Mike and Marie Cooper,' The man stated dryly.

She just nods again.

'Look, I know with all the moving and running, the constant vigilance, name changing… I know its tough on you because, well, hell, it's tough on me…'

'It's fine Dad. I understand. Wouldn't want to be found by the same sick bastard that killed Mum,' She spat out the sentence as if it was venom.

'Careful, there are small children on board!' Her father joked. This earned him a smile.

'_Ladies and gentleman, we will be arriving in Waterloo Station shortly.'_

'Here we go again.' The teen muttered.

* * *

Mike sat in a cafe in London, newspaper, coffee and ads for cheap flats. He rubbed his tired eyes. When he opened them, he noticed a man who had definitely not been sitting there before.

'Jesus Christ, you seriously can't just sneak up on people.'

'Am I really that silent? Obviously, going by your comment. I see you're looking for a flat… I'm currently looking at has three bedrooms and I can not afford it on own.'

'Sorry? Wait… What?'

'I thought I was clear.'

'No, sorry, we don't know anything about each other and you're offering me a flat share.' Mike frowned.

At this the man smirked. 'I know that you were in the military, probably Special Forces more likely Army. You wear a ring on your finger but it's at least fifteen years old and you're looking for a two bed flat but your wife's not here helping. She could have divorced you but she's more likely to be dead. The second bed is for your daughter, a text on your phone from 'Marie'.' At this point he was standing. 'You can come and view the flat at 7ish tonight. Bring Marie if you wish, no doubt she'll want to give her opinion. Uh… The address is 221b Baker Street and my name is Sherlock Holmes.'

'Mike Cooper.'

'See you later Mike.' With that he walks away, leaving a dumbstruck Mike.

* * *

**A/N This chapter has been beta'd by IzzyDelta**


	3. Chapter 2 Flat viewing with a twist

**Deepest Secrets**

'Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, surely, a guy that can tell you a lot about you after meeting you for a few minutes and_ then _offers you a flat share can _only_ be good!'

'Relax. He didn't get _everything_ right. I looked him up. He has a website called "A Science in Deduction". It said that he can tell an airline pilot from their left thumb and a computer designer from their tie. A lot of bullshit if you ask me, but we need somewhere to stay, so lets try it out. He is only a P.I. after all.'

Marie snorted. 'Yeah, things can only go well when you live with a P.I.'

The London scenery passed by the quickly outside the London taxi. They arrived on Baker Street a trifle early, turning out not to be a problem as barely thirty seconds had passed when a second cab pulled up carrying Sherlock Holmes.

Mike went to shake his hand while Marie started to lean against the wall beside the door. 'Mr. Holmes, this is my daughter Marie.' She didn't move from her spot and simply nodded her head in acknowledgement. Mike frowned at her.

'Sherlock, please,' Sherlock said as he took Mikes hand.

'It looks nice enough from the outside,' Marie said absentmindedly.

'Yes, Mrs. Hudson owns Speedy's,' Sherlock said with a jab of his head towards the little café next to them, 'She is also our landlady and owes me a favour. Just means the rent is a little lower. Her husband had a death sentence in Florida.' He knocked on the door.

'You stopped him from getting the death penalty?' Mike asked with a surprised tone.

'Oh no, I ensured it.' The door opened and an elderly lady with her hair shaped into a bob stood with a smile on her face. 'Ah, Mrs. Hudson, this is Mike Cooper and Marie, they want to see about sharing the flat.'

'Come in, come in. Don't scare them off Sherlock, it'll be nice to have a another woman around.' Mrs. Hudson smiled at Marie, who smiled back politely.' It's upstairs, Sherlock will show you.'

'Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.'

They walked up the stairs and into the flat on the landing. The living room looked like a bomb had gone off. Mike looked at the mess, seeing no point in stating the obvious, he just raised an eyebrow at his potential flatmate.

'I've already moved in.'

Mike turned to look at Marie, only to find she had walked over to the fireplace and was looking at the skull sitting there. 'You didn't kill the guy this belonged to, right?'

Sherlock frowned before answering with a mischievous grin. 'No, he's an old friend… well, when I say friend. How did you know it was human?'

By this point, Marie had disappeared from sight. Mike just chuckled. 'Sorry, she does that. A lot. She's read one of my old medical textbooks, probably how she knew. Marie!'

'Yes Dad? Just looking around.' Marie's voice floated back down to them.

'You're a doctor?' Sherlock said.

Mike shook his head. 'Was. I was a doctor. Now if you excuse me, I think I'd better have a look around and see what Marie thinks before we make a decision.'

* * *

'How was the room?'

'Better then most of the holes we've lived in,' Marie muttered in reply.

'Happy?' Marie rolled her eyes. 'I'll just ask him about the rent and that we'll move in within the next couple of days.'

* * *

**A/N This chapter has been beta'd by IzzyDelta**


	4. Chapter 3 Meeting new people

**Deepest Secrets**

'How about those suicides? Thought those would be right up your street!' Mrs. Hudson said. 'There's been three so far-'

'Four. There's been a fourth.' Sherlock said from where he was standing, looking out at the street.

The sound of someone running up the stairs drew the attention of Mike and Marie. A man with salt and pepper hair, dressed in a trench coat and a suit with the tie quite loose came into view.

'Sherlock, there's been a fourth,' He said, 'Do you what a ride?'

'Who's on forensics'

'Anderson.'

'I can't work with him.'

'Well find someone else.'

'I can't, I need an assistant.'

'I'll text you the address.' The grey haired man turned sighing and left the flat.

A grin to match a Cheshire cat spread across Sherlock's face, and then he leaped in the air, full of excitement. 'Yes. Mrs. Hudson! I'll probably be back late, could you have something ready? Something cold will-'

'I'm your landlady not your housekeeper! Look at you Sherlock. It's not decent.'

'Who cares about decent?' Sherlock disappeared quickly.

The Coopers remained silent throughout the whole situation. They exchanged a look before Marie left to go to her room. Mike went back to his newspaper.

'You were a doctor.' A familiar voice said. 'A military doctor.'

'Yes, I told you.' Mike put down his paper and got to his feet.

'Seen violent deaths.'

'Yes, too many. Enough for a life time.'

'Want to see some more?'

'Oh, God yes!'

* * *

'Hello Mr. Cooper. Would you like to sit down?'

'No, thanks, why am I here?' Mike allowed his annoyance to show though his voice.

'You're Sherlock Holmes' flat mate, you've known him for a week already solving crimes together. Should I be expecting a happy announcement by next week?'

Mike kept staring at the taller man with the tailored suit who was, currently, leaning against a black umbrella. He got an urge to pull it out from under the toff. Why did he need an umbrella, they were inside for crying out loud. It looked like a car park of some sort. Mike was pissed and this was not helping his mood. First, Sherlock had disappeared from the crime scene leaving him not having a clue whatsoever where he was and then he was abducted on a busy street, in plain view of everyone. Mike decided today was not his day. So he just narrowed his eyes.

'Why are you interested?'

'Just an interested party. What you should be more worried about is yourself. I looked you up. You and your daughter don't exist.'

Mike bit his tongue refusing to be taunted.

'Whatever reason you have, don't bring Sherlock into it.' The umbrella wielding man moved and walked slowly disappearing into the shadows of the abandoned car park. 'Goodnight, Mr. Cooper.'

Meanwhile….

'Mrs. Hudson, sorry about this but we have a warrant.' Marie listened as the footsteps of at least five people came up the stairs.

'Oh! Who would you be?' Marie recognised the grey haired man from earlier on that evening.

'Marie Cooper. You would be…'

'DI Lestrade.'

'You're here because…' Marie was using her condescending voice quite by accident. She really didn't like the look of some of the other officers, whatever, behind the DI. It was obvious that he was fed up.

'Drugs bust!'

Those two words caught her full attention. Her expression showed her shock.

'You're related to that Doctor bloke who was at the crime scene earlier, aren't you?' One of the faces she didn't like asked. He had a stupid haircut and a rat-face to match. She hated him instantly and decided it would be a hell of a lot of fun to wind him up.

'Sorry, but there are so many 'Doctor Blokes' and the last time I checked my last name was Cooper. You have heard me say it. The Met really needs to their recruitment strategy.' Oh she was having fun messing with this guys head.

'Anderson! Get on with it or leave!' Lestrade snapped sternly. 'Do you always wind people up or is it just police officers?'

'Depends.' She said with a shrug. 'Mostly I only irritate people that annoy me. He practically invited me to do it.'

Lestrade chuckled. 'What I think he meant was, are you related to Dr. Cooper?'

'Yes, he's my dad.'

Lestrade nodded his head. 'Um, any idea where he is?'

'Um… he left to help Sherlock with the suicide case, I think.'

'Wait,' Anderson again. She could really understand why Sherlock couldn't work with him; he was the living dictionary definition of stupid. 'Where do you live?'

Marie gave him her best death glare. 'Welcome to my humble abode 'cause you're standing in it.' She replied coldly. A silence descended on the flat.

This was really Not Good.

* * *

**A/N This chapter has been beta'd by IzzyDelta**


	5. Chapter 4 Smoking barrel

**Deepest Secrets**

Sherlock and Mike had only really just caught their breath after chasing the taxi-cab when Mrs. Hudson appeared. She looked flustered and was much unset. Sherlock quietened down and seemed to set his attention, solely, on what she had to say. Mike had never seen him do this except for the examining the body so to say it surprised him was an understatement.

'Sherlock, upstairs.' At these words Sherlock bounded up the without a word. Mike followed after a moment's hesitation with Mrs. Hudson on his heels. 'The mess they've made.'

'What are you doing?' Sherlock growled at Lestrade who was sat in, what Marie had dubbed, Sherlock's chair. He had a smug look on his face and looked around himself before answering with a smile on his face.

'Drugs Bust.'

Mike noticed his daughter was asleep on the old battered couch. 'Why is my daughter asleep on the couch instead of her own room?'

'Oh. She was telling the truth. Couldn't let her move encase she disposed of anything, uh, comprising.'

'Yes, you wouldn't want anything moved now, would you Lestrade?' Sherlock said coldly. 'Anyway, I'm clean. I don't even smoke.' To prove this he rolled up his sleeve and revealed a nicotine patch. Surprisingly Lestrade got up and did the same, revealing a similar nicotine patch.

'Are these human eyes?' Sally Donovan asked from the kitchen.

'Yes.'

'I found them in the microwave!'

'It's for an experiment. She's not part of Narcotics, what is she doing here?'

Lestrade took a breath. 'Well, technically speaking, no one here is actually on the Drugs Squad. They volunteered, and seemed rather keen to be here.'

'Yes and we found the pink case that _someone_ said would be with our killer. And where did we find it? In the flat of our favourite psychopath.' Anderson appeared from behind the doors separating the kitchen and living room.

'I am not a psychopath! I am a highly functioning sociopath, do your research!' Sherlock snapped at Anderson.

At this point, Mike gave up trying to comprehend what was going on. Instead he went to, or rather attempt to, wake up Marie. 'Marieee.' He cooed gently, 'Marie, wake up sweetheart. I really don't want to deal with you being a grumpy bitch tomorrow.' He glanced at his watch. 'Huh later on this morning.' Marie opened her eyes clearly unfocused.

'Are those idiots still here?' She mumbled. Sherlock snorted, agreeing with her views on the officers.

'Afraid so.' Marie attempted to roll on to her other side. 'Oh no. Up you get and off to bed.' Amazingly, if a bit unbalanced, she did just so. The only thing that indicated to Mike that she was there was the muttering cursing she said from walking into her door. He sighed with relief

'Rachael, don't you see? Rachael. She's dead and she's still smarter then you'll ever be.'

Mike listened as Sherlock proceeded to tell the Scotland Yard's finest on how a) stupid they were and b) how Rachael fitted into the bigger picture. Mike impressed himself when he realised, before the others, where exactly this was going. The small problem in all this was when the online tracker for the phone said it was in 221 Baker Street which he knew was impossible from earlier when the killer phoned them.

He got even more confused when, after Sherlock telling Mrs. Hudson that he hadn't ordered a cab, Sherlock mysteriously decided that he had, in fact, ordered one. Mike didn't like it. The hairs on the back of his neck standing on end attested to that, but he continued to watch the GPS tracker for the phone.

It was moving.

It didn't take him long to piece together what was happening. He ran off into the night, with his old service gun, to help his idiot genius of a flatmate.

* * *

'The bullet they just dug out of the wall is from a handgun. Kill shot from that sort of distance and that type of weapon; that's a crack shot you're looking for, but not just a marksman, a fighter, his hands couldn't have shaken… clearly acclimatised to violence. He didn't shoot till I was in danger though, strong moral principles.

'You're looking for a man with military history,' Sherlock looked around at the squad cars and saw Mike standing there, calm as ever,' and nerves of steel,' Mike continued to stand there but frowned at Sherlock. Sherlock frowned back.

'Actually… you know what, ignore me!'

'Sorry?' Lestrade said a bit more than surprised by the sudden stop in Sherlock's deductions.

'Ignore all that, it's just the, uh… Shock talking.'

* * *

**A/N This chapter has been beta'd by IzzyDelta**


	6. Chapter 5 The Blind Banker

Chapter 5- The Blind Banker.

'Seriously? You are insufferable!' Marie was not in a good mood with Sherlock. She had been enjoying the comfortable silence between them for the better part of three hours, reading a book. When, all of a sudden, he had become animated and had started asking twenty questions. She preferred it when he was in his mind castle, palace, or whatever he called it. She hated the fact that he was completely overlooking the last night's events, when her dad and his boss (girlfriend?) were kidnapped all because Sherlock was too bone idle to get off his skinny ass and get the milk!

No-o-o, he was asking about the 'incident' with the cabbie killer instead. Her nice day was completely tarnished in her opinion. 'Look, you know my dad did that. Hell, I knew he did that without him saying a word to me about it. Shouldn't you be thanking your lucky stars or something? If it had been me, I would have let you die as a punishment for thinking you could outwit a serial killer, so that would put you either a) in medical care or b) six feet under.'

Sherlock was shocked, to say the least, at Marie's outburst. She was usually quiet with the occasional disagreement with her dad and that was almost always at a reasonable level. He regained his composure. After all, it was inevitable that she would turn on him at some point or another. 'Yes, fine.' He waves it off. 'I don't need to know what might have happened; all I need to know is why your father did that. I had known him for barely a week and yet he risked going to jail for me.'

Marie shook her head and gave a light chuckle. 'For a genius, you aren't very smart. I will say this once and once only; he trusts you, you complete and utter idiot'. Sherlock remained quiet. 'Anyway, how was last night?' She asked, just like she always did after Sherlock had completed one of his cases. She enjoyed listening to his explanations of how he had worked out who had committed the crime and why.

'Um, oh yes. Well, it all comes down to…'

* * *

This chapter was beta'd by IzzyDelta.


	7. Chapter 6 Going for a run causes explosi

Chapter 6- Going for a run causes explosions

'Dad, I'm going for a run!'

'Okay, just try not to be run over by a bicycle or anything else equally ridiculous… It would end up on your gravestone.' Mike joked. Marie chuckled, indicating this was one of the many inside jokes between the only two members of the Cooper family living in the baker street flat.

'I'll be fine. See ya later!' Marie ran out of the door of 221B and started her run. Mike wandered back into the kitchen-slash-lab to make himself and, because he worried he would die otherwise, Sherlock a cup of tea. Sherlock was focused intently on his microscope with his latest experiment. The consulting detective was trying to beat the unavoidable boredom between cases and that was absolutely fine with Mike, as he _really_ didn't like being woken at three in the morning by a violin being played extremely badly on purpose.

However, this time, Sherlock found his experiment fruitless and made his way to the couch, throwing himself upon it, ungracefully. Instead, he watched his flat mate open the fridge and the detective smirked as Mike immediately shut it again. 'Sherlock, why is there a bloody head in the fridge?'

'It's an experiment.' Sherlock deadpanned.

'I figured that out!' Mike snapped back. Sherlock realised that he had managed to anger his flat mate. Mike didn't snap at people, he drew on his military experience and used it to his advantage. He didn't even snap at his daughter when they had seemingly pointless arguments.

Plus, Marie had already seen that head. Her reaction had been to cock her head to one side, look at Sherlock before rolling her eyes and continue with what she had been doing previously. It was only a head after all.

When things got heated in 221B Baker Street, or when Mike and Sherlock had a difference of opinion over an experiment or a cadaver piece in inappropriate places, it generally ended with Mike grabbing his coat and storming out of the flat. Sherlock stayed on the sofa for a few moments trying to work out what had happened. He decided that Marie would be back first and would be able to enlighten him. He highly doubted that Mike would be back any time soon. He stood to stride across the room.

A '**BOOM**!' sounded through Baker Street, shattering the windows and throwing Sherlock forwards across the room. Mrs. Hudson, quite simply, was going to be furious.

Marie ran around the corner of Baker Street to be met with a frenzy of blue and red flashing lights. She tried to look for the familiar and comforting face of her father but instead found that of their flat mate. She walked over, as calmly as she could possibly manage, to ask him what had happened.

As it turned out, the flats opposite had had a gas leak, which, in turn, had ignited causing the damage. No one was there when it had happened. No one had been seriously injured either.

Mike came running over. He folded in half, clutching his chest to catch his breath.

'Good run?' Marie asked sarcastically, 'you know all you had to do was ask and we could have gone running together. Didn't need to let your pride get in the way.'

Mike glared at Marie. 'Oh ha-bloody-ha. What on earth happened here anyway?'

'Gas leak.' Mike just nodded understandingly.

* * *

Mike walked down, to the living room the next morning only to be greeted with the Brothers Holmes bickering. As soon as they realised he was there, they quietened.

'Good morning, Mycroft.'

'Morning,' that, Mike realised, was as polite as Mycroft was going to be towards him.

'Mike, Lestrade called. He said he wanted help with a case. Coming?'

Mike shook his head and walked into the kitchen. 'Can't, I've got to go to the clinic today.'

'You've not gone before,' Sherlock started.

'Yes and that is the reason I wouldn't be able to pay my half of the rent,' Mike interrupted as Marie walked in. Sherlock's eyebrows rose.

'Marie, would you like to help me with a case?'

'Let me guess, Dad said no,' She looked at her dad who was calmly drinking his tea. 'All right, but annoy me and I will punch you. Morning Mycroft, what are you doing here?'

'I wish to speak with your father about something.'

Marie controlled her expression into one of mock surprise. 'Wow,' she said, 'you can talk to people without kidnapping them in their car first! I've learnt something new today. But doesn't that clash with your superior complex or something?'

Mike gave a light chuckle at her antics. If she kept that up at Scotland Yard she would be arrested. '_What am I getting myself into?_' he thought. Trouble and plenty of it too.

* * *

Thanks to my bata IzzyDelta.


	8. Chapter 7 Find him

Chapter 7- Find him

Marie followed Sherlock at a slower pace then she would normally as she found it highly amusing to push a certain Consulting Detective's buttons… that and for all the times Lestrade and his team had been in _their_ flat because of evidence, she had never been in the lion's den, so to speak. Given half the chance (sometimes less) she liked to push some of the buttons of police officers she had already the displeasure of meeting. Their luck had certainly ran out when she saw both her 'favourite' officers in front of where they were heading. Lestrade's office.

'Hello Freak,' Sally Donovan chimed. Anderson just smirked beside her. Marie picked up her pace to try and avoid a confrontation between the so-called responsible adults. She was most likely the most grown-up of all four of them.

She pushed past Sherlock into Lestrade's office with the minimum amount of fuss as you can possibly get with Sherlock Holmes around.

'Hello Lestrade,' Marie said as she sat herself down in a chair.

'Hello Marie. Is your dad around here somewhere?'

'No, actually, he's at work. I'm here as his replacement, I think anyway.' Lestrade nodded his head in earnest.

'Yes, we've had the meet and greet, what's the case?' Sherlock asked as impatient as always.

Lestrade picked up a small package that had been lying on his desk. He gave it a quick once over before handing it over to Sherlock. 'Came in this morning… I had it checked for explosives and there were none, thankfully. It's addressed to you.'

Sherlock was turning the envelope over in his hands, turning it up to the light, shifting it fro one had to another. He finally opened it, sliding the contents onto the desk. It was an iPhone with a pink cover, almost exactly like the one in the 'cabbie killer' case.

'Is that, you know, the phone from the 'cabbie killer' case?' Lestrade asked mirroring Marie's thoughts

'No… but someone's gone to great lengths to make it look like it.' At that moment the text alert chimed announcing the arrival of a text. Sherlock read it aloud for the benefit of everyone else in the room. 'Find John Watson.'

* * *

This was beta'd by IzzyDelta. :D


	9. Chapter 8 Start of the unraveling

Chapter 8- Start of the unravelling

_Previously_

_Sherlock read it aloud for the benefit of everyone else in the room. 'Find John Watson.'_

'So who's John Watson?' Lestrade asked.

'I have no idea… We need to find out as much as possible on John Watson. I need to figure out how's he involved in all this.'

'Yeah, I'll get on with that.' Lestrade answered.

No one noticed that the teenager sitting the corner had appeared to stop breathing and was sitting bolt upright in her chair, rather than the relaxed position she had been in.

Donovan walked back into the office around ten minutes later, staring daggers at Sherlock. 'We found a lot of people that had the name 'John Watson' but since the text said to find him, I checked the missing persons and only one came up. Doctor John Hamish Watson married to a Mary Morstan and has a daughter called Samantha. He was an army doctor and had been on tour multiple times. The last was Afghanistan. He and his daughter have been missing for five years. They were reported missing on the same day his wife was found dead, shot through the heart.' Donovan placed the files on the desk.

The file consisted of a few photos. He set about studying them to understand more about John Watson. He didn't look particularly tall (perhaps 5'8?), but looked like any other military man in build despite his difference in height. He had dirty blond hair and Sherlock couldn't make out an eye colour but he'd hazard a guess at blue. There were some family photos that had been given to the police by a Harriet Watson. In the photo, John could be seen with his family (his wife, a girl and a woman who shared the same hair colour, had to be his sister) and another military man.

'Who is this? He doesn't look related to John or his wife.' Sherlock pointed out.

Donovan glanced at the man he was pointing out before shuffling a few papers. 'That's Bill Murray, John's best friend since childhood. They enlisted together and were later stationed together with The Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. After John and Samantha went missing he defended them when he heard the police investigating thought that John had murdered his wife. Bill said that John was a doctor first; a soldier second and very relaxed when on leave. He cared for his family and friends, his sister was all he had left after his parents died when he was in his early twenties… and she's a drunk. No one believed him though…'

'The argument being he was in the army and therefore knew how to handle a gun,' Marie finally joined in the discussion. Upon receiving some odd looks she added. 'What? Dad's the same; he was an army doctor too!'

'Yep. He had the training and it partially says in his personnel file that he was a crack shot. And him being a doctor too, it's hard not to agree with the evidence and disappearing didn't do him any favours.'

'Have you phoned up any relations?' Marie asked. Lestrade nodded, wanting this over with.

'I have already contacted his sister and Bill Murray. His sister, Harriet, lives in Surrey and will be here in around about an hour with her wife. Bill Murray said he would be here in ten minutes.

Marie sat straighter in her chair, if that was possible. This had gone from Not Good to Very Not Good very quickly. She had to admit, hearing Harry had got married and someone had stuck up for them in their absence was good news. But the fact they were both coming here was not good at all. As much as she would love to see them, it wouldn't be so good for them to see her. She knew she looked like her mother, her dad had been telling her for as long as she could remember. There was no way she could lie to them with that amount of evidence against her, it was a wonder that Sherlock hadn't connected the dots yet. This was not going to go well.

The next ten minutes crept by pitifully slowly. Sherlock had finished with the case files and was staring into the middle distance. Marie flicked though a couple of the files. She rapidly realised that the team that had been working their case were about as far from the truth as they could have gotten.

A man with dark hair, that was beginning to grey at the temples, came into that squad room outside Lestrade's office. Marie needed no introduction to know that it was Bill Murray. He looked exactly like she remembered, maybe not with the greying hair though. Tall, broad shouldered and eyes a bright cobalt blue that made a striking contrast to his almost jet-black hair. Hopefully, he wouldn't remember her as well as she remembered him. She wasn't holding out on any chance like that.

Lestrade opened the door to his office. 'Bill Murray?' Bill nodded, Lestrade held out his hand for the former soldier to shake. 'I am DI Lestrade.'

'It's nice to meet you. You've got a new lead on the Watson case, haven't ya?'

'More like someone is using it to taunt me,' Sherlock said quietly. This turned Bill's glaze on Sherlock who, by happy consequence, was sitting next to Marie. Bill quickly forgot about Sherlock as he stares at her as he tries to place where he had seen her before.

Sherlock, ever observant, noticed. 'Sorry, but I'm not sure how my flat mate would appreciate how you're looking at his daughter.' Marie could almost mistake his words as caring. Almost.

'Sorry.' Bill looked at Sherlock this time. 'She just reminds me of someone.'

This got everyone's attention.

'Who, exactly, does she remind you of?' Donovan asked.

As Donovan spoke, Sherlock had jumped to his feet and was sorting through the stack of photos in the case files. He stood up straight with one in his hands. 'She reminds him of Mary Watson.' He stated simply. He gave Marie a small look of concern before refreshing his emotionless face. 'Anything we need to know?'

Marie sat there in shock. The room started to feel warmer and smaller then she remembered it being a few short minutes before. '_This seriously can't be happening!'_ she thought desperately, but she knew it was. She sat still, not moving so much of an inch, hoping if she didn't move they wouldn't see her. She rationalised that it wouldn't work. 'I'm just going to go call my dad,' she muttered before escaping the hot, cramped office.

* * *

This chapter was beta'd by IzzyDelta.


	10. Chapter 9 Reunions

Chapter 9- Reunions

'Come on, pick up!' Marie was to say the least, frustrated. They had been caught out. In this annoying game of cat and mice, they were as good as dead and the sick psycho would be all too happy to kill them.

'_Sorry the person you are trying to reach is unavailable to answer your call. You can leave a-'_

That didn't help her mood in the slightest. The one time she needed to hear his voice to really help her calm down and needed to tell him something really important; he didn't answer his damn phone. Now, there were rational reasons for why he might not be picking up. He had forgotten to charge it and it had died or it was just turned off by accident. Marie inwardly shakes her head, sure her dad was forgetful sometimes, but not like this.

'Marie,' a deep baritone voice said from behind her. 'Or is it Samantha? I don't do well with aliases. Any luck with reaching your father?'

'No! Two options: his phone is turned off, which it never is, or it has ran out of battery, which isn't possible with dad.' She took a deep breath and counted to ten in her head to calm her nerves and, she will never admit, to stop the tears that were threatening to spill.

'Samantha, I can call you Samantha?' Sherlock actually sounded sincere.

'Yeah but I prefer Sam. Samantha's a bit of a mouthful and whenever I was in trouble it was "Samantha".'

Sherlock nodded. 'Mike is John, you are Sam and you've been incognito for five years.' He stated. Marie, or rather Samantha, nodded her head.

At that moment a phone went off. Sherlock put a hand into one of his Belstaff's pockets and took out said phone. It was the pink phone from earlier. His brow furrowed into a small frown before he read the message to her. 'Well done.'

* * *

'Right, let me explain the rules of me telling everyone the whole story and not the half-arsed attempt the Fuzz made of it. No interruptions, no questions until I'm finished because I don't know all the details so it's likely I won't be able to answer all of them. No grilling me or I will clam up and refuse to speak and ask for a lawyer. And last but not least, I want to wait till my Aunt Harry gets here so I don't have to repeat myself.' Sam wondered where half of that had come from but stared at her least favourite members of Lestrades team, challenging them to argue '_It wasn't fair'_ and '_she can't make the rules'_ etc.

'That's not very fair,' Sherlock protested. Sam realised she had been glaring at the wrong person completely.

'Well, my tale, my conditions. Build a bridge and deal with it. Since Dad's not answering his bloody phone for some obscure reason, I'm all you've got. Plus, I don't feel like repeating myself and explaining it once is enough thank you very much.' She smiled, her eyes darkening.' Or will I have to use blackmail?' Sherlock closed his mouth and went quiet. 'Shame. Mrs Hudson would have loved me.'

'You do realised you have just threatened to use blackmail, to the freak no-less, in front of three officers of the law, right?' Donovan said. 'You can be arrested for that and then we wouldn't have to follow any of those 'conditions' of yours. You do know that, don't you?'

Sam tilted her head to the right just ever to slightly. A smirk plastered on her face. 'Oh, yes, I do know I can be arrested for blackmail and the last time I counted, there was only one police office here, a consulting detective, a member slash ex-member of Her Royal Majesty's Army, me and two idiots.' She sat down in her pervious seat and waited for some sort of half arsed retort. When none came she turned to speak to Bill. 'Sorry you had to witness that. A bit not good as Dad would put it and I'm really not helping the whole godparent-godchild relation, am I?'

Bill's eyebrows shot up. 'You remember that?'

'Course I do. I recognised you as soon as I saw ya. How can I forget my non-uncle uncle who spent most of his leave in our house? How are you anyway?'

'I'm fine. I have a wife, Lucy, and two kids called Rose and Kimberly. They are a right pair. They manage to scare off every baby sitter we get… Actually they are a lot like you when you were that age. I don't want to think what the three of ya could do if left alone together.'

Samantha flashed a toothy smile and shook her head. 'Sorry, but I could have sworn I heard you offering me a job.'

Bill smiled right back. 'It takes one to know one. So that would mean, it takes a menace to know a menace.'

Sherlock looked at his watch. Harry wouldn't be here fro at least another twenty minutes and that was if the traffic was good. It was going to be a long wait. A long wait indeed…

* * *

Samantha and Bill continued to chat, discussing all manner of things. It turned out Harry was most likely to be a bit more then tipsy when she got here. At that moment two women walked in, escorted by Anderson. The first had red hair that appeared to have not a hair out of place and appeared to have her make-up, jewellery and clothes perfect. The other had blonde hair, blue eyes and seemed more then a little off balance. Harry then.

She stopped dead when she saw Sam, who smiled sheepishly back, before running (more like staggered) over and grabbing Sam into a tight hug, which left the latter winded.

'Sam?' Sam nodded into Harry's shoulder. 'Where is your father? Why did you just disappear like that? When I get my hands on John…' Tears were slowly trickling down her face.

'Don't worry Harriet,' Bill stepped in. 'Sam insisted that we wait for you before she told us anything,' he explained to the slightly drunk women.

'Harry,' Sam spoke up quietly from Harriet's embrace, 'I'm so sorry for all the pain dad and I have caused and I wish everything were different but it's not and-'

'Shhs…' Harry cut off her rambling, bringing her impossibly close.' I wish that too, sweetheart and don't understand but I might after you've told us, um.' She moved Samantha away from her and cupped her face in her hand, giving her a long glance. 'You look so much like your mother except for those eyes, that's all Watson there.' Sam smiled. 'Now, why don't we hear your little story?'

'Little doesn't even begin to cover five years, Harriet,' Bill said half-heartedly.

'Right, lets all get seated and Marie-Samantha doesn't want any interruptions or questions until she's finished.' Lestrade reminded everyone even though his eyes were fixed on Sherlock the whole time.

When everyone was seated, they looked at Sam who started fiddling with her hands.

'It all started when…'

* * *

**A/N: Hello. sorry for the long wait but I literally had no time to type it up. For the grammar police among you, you will see that my grammar in this chapter has greatly improved and that is all because of my beta IzzyDelta. **

**Thanks for reading and please review 'cos I like reading...**

**I-O-U-a-picture**


	11. Chapter 10 Night terrors

Chapter 10- Night terrors

'It all started when Dad came back from a tour in Afghanistan when I was eleven. He had been in hospital for a while. I remember that he was miserable and sort of… odd in a way. I realise now he was paranoid and for a good reason.

'Anyway, when he came home he was happier, laughed a little but not as much as normal. Usually, when he was on leave, at the beginning he'd be all uptight, jumping at shadows and small noises but after a week or two he'd relax and become more of the person I knew, the man I used to call Dad. Until then, he was still Dad on the outside but not completely, not on the inside. I remember one time, before all this mess…'

_Sam watched as her dad walked around with a small limp affecting his left leg. Her mum had told her not to worry about it; all small injuries eventual heal and her father was no exception to the rule. _

_His back was to her, looking out the kitchen window. Had she been able to see his face, she would have realised this was not the time to accidentally sneak up on him._

'_Dad?' she said quietly, just above a whisper. She watched her Dad jump and pivot on his uninjured leg to face her. She would remember the look on his face forever. His eyes, normally filled with warmth and love, betrayed fear, anger and hatred and the expression on his face matched. He looked like a savage. She would remember the moment as if it had happened the previous moment for the rest of her life. _

_Having never seen her father so… unlike himself, she took a few steps back. This movement seemed to clear the older Watson's mind for his face fell and his eyes went dull. When he realised that he had scared her and he, quite frankly, felt like a lousy father. The two Watsons regarded each other for a few moments before John lowered himself slowly onto the floor, and opened his arms pleading for her forgiveness. _

_Sam threw herself into her fathers embrace. Her Dad kissed the top of her head. All was forgiven._

'After that he seemed almost back to normal. Okay, he still jumped at certain noises but they were big bangs that, I suppose, could be confused with a gun firing instead. A week later, however, it was the night my Mum was killed.'

Sam looked out of the small window above Lestrade's head. She desperately hoped that they wouldn't ask about that night, the night that changed her live dramatically. But she was a realist, and knew that they would.

Lestrade cleared his throat. 'I know this must be hard Samantha, but we need to know what happened that night.' Sam reluctantly nodded her head.

'It was night; I woke up at around one because I heard this loud bang…'

_Sam woke with a start. What had that noise been? It sounded like the guns she had heard on the TV. Surely it couldn't be, but it could have been. _

_She climbed out of bed and crept silently over to the door and opened it just enough to see a narrow strip of light from under a door across the landing. 'That's strange,' She thought to herself. 'No-ones usually up during the night.' _

_She could make out faint voices. _

'_MARY.' Her Dad had been shouting for her mother. Why? What had happened? _

_After that everything was muffled. They were whispering, she concluded, and she could hear that the owners of the whispering voices were all male. _

_She heard footsteps, practically running, heading towards the stairs._

'_The name's Moriarty.' The voice had a strong Irish accent. Sam didn't have any more time to come to terms with what significance that had before her Dad came into view. _

_He ran, limped, over to her door, pushing it open. 'Sam, get dressed. We're leaving.'_

'_Dad, it's the middle of the night! Why are we-'_

'_Samantha!' Her Dad raised his voice, automatically changing into his "commanding officer voice", as her Mum had jokingly dubbed it. He realised this instantly. He softened his voice back to it's normal level. 'Just do as you're told. I'll be back in a few minutes and we'll pack some clothes.'_

'After that we ran for it. I was eleven and had been to funerals and had a basic understanding of death. I don't think Dad wanted to talk about it either. We didn't stay in one place for long. We ended up in the North Wales. We've moved at least… four-maybe-five times since then. The last move ending in sharing a flat with the world's only consulting detective. That's all I know. I think his last tour had something to do with this whole affair…'

Bill nodded.' Yeah, he went missing for a week. He said that one of the Afghan's gave him a right royal concussion, knocking him right out. When he came to, he had no idea where he was. He refused to talk about what happened. When we found John, he had a knife sticking out of his thigh and not an insurgent in sight. What happened in that week could really be linked to everything after.'

Sherlock had his hands clasped and placed under his chin in his "I am in my mind place' pose. Suddenly, his eyes widened. 'Samantha, you said Moriarty didn't you?'

'Uh, yeah, I did say Moriarty. What about him?'

'The cabbie, before he died, told me I had a fan. He told me the name was "Moriarty".' Sherlock admitted. The pink phone beeped alerting everyone that it had received a phone call. He switching it onto speakerphone.

'_You have one new message. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beeeep.'_

* * *

**_A/N: people that have been following me for a very long time, I am so so sorry for not updating quicker. I hope that people actually read this because i'm going on a semi forced hiatus because of my prelims that are coming up. Teachers seem to regard this as a time to completely and utterly stress out their students and as an excuse give us all stupid amounts of homework. (No joke. I finished three yesterday for this week and was simultaneously given three more pieces!) _**

**_Anyways, with that little apology slash rant over, thanks to my beta, IzzyDelta, she's a star! Check out some of her stories, they're pretty good. _**

**_For now, tis good-bye... * mumbles I hate school... messing with my life...*_**

**_I-O-U-a-picture_**


	12. AUTHORS NOTE

**Authors note.**

***steps out from behind a wall, waves awkwardly***

**Hi all of the people that have favourited/ followed this story. I am so very sorry, I do recall saying that I would get some new chapters up in the October Holidays but its December now and I failed on my word. My parents had me studying for my prelims, which i finished last week and failed my core subjects from what Ive seen so far (English, maths and French). I am going to write the next chapters today, look over them and then I'll send them to my wonderful beta, IzzyDelta, and post them all in stages up till Christmas/ New year. Consider that my gift of good will to you all.**

**Please don't kill me,**

**I-O-U-a-picture.**


	13. Chapter 11 The Great Game Begins

Chapter 11- The Great Game begins

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beeeep.'_

Sam turned her head at the sound; she could swear she had heard them before but where?

The pink phone made another noise to signal that it had received a message of some sort. Sherlock opened it and a little frown appeared on his brow. Whatever it was, it clearly was making him use his mind palace to help him figure it out.

'Sam, come here and have a look at this.' Before she could, the blasted pink phone started ringing. The number was blocked. Bill raised an eyebrow at his Godchild but made no comments. Sherlock answered it and put it on speaker for the benefit of the room.

'Hello.'

'H-h-hello,' came the shaken voice of a crying woman from the other end.

Sam walked out of the room, not looking to see if anyone was following her. She was emotionally tired from her 'confessions', if you could call them confessions, earlier and just wanted to speak to her father and tell him to give up the pretence of being Mike Cooper and also tell him that they were allowed to, proudly, call themselves Watson again.

Because of all this inner turmoil, Sam really didn't want to listen to the crying of a poor, scared shitless lady that she didn't know. She wasn't like Sherlock, she did have emotions and knew how to use them thank you very much, but found that ignoring the cause of her flaring emotional state worked better then becoming all worked up about it.

* * *

John was frustrated. Not often did he become frustrated but it was starting to be a reoccurring thing that was increasing in its frequency since he had started sharing a flat with the world's only Consulting Detective. More like the world's only Consulting nine year old but, he guessed, that was the price to pay to pay for a lower rent in London.

The cause of his frustration today wasn't the head in the fridge or the lack of proper food in there. It was his flatmates -the British Government, his royal pain in the ass- brother, Mycroft _effing_ Holmes.

If John was being honest with himself -not something he had done in quite a few years, mind you- he would have realised that the 'scary bloke that took me to underground car park to threaten me' wasn't going to let him live in the same place as his brother without doing some sort of background check. He had already known that neither he nor his daughter existed under their false names and would have used facial recognition to find them.

Yeah… he hadn't really thought things through. No, not at all. What kind of ex-army Captain was he?

'_One that hasn't been a Captain for five years, that's what.' _His mind filled in for him.

He heard the sound of the door to 221B opening, followed by Sherlock shouting for Mrs Hudson. This was followed by quiet murmurs. He walked out of the flat to investigate. He saw his daughter, who had her back to the stairs, was alternating between listening and talking to Lestrade and, he be damned if it wasn't…

'JOHN WATSON,' Bill shouted. 'HOW COULD YOU?! Well, actually I know how and how you disappeared _but that's not the point._ I was worried, your sister was worried, the lads were effing terrified, not that they showed it, and most of all you missed both of my kids first birthdays! You promised that you would be there, John. '

At the latter remark, John burst into a fit of giggles. Trying desperately to regain control of his traitorous voice he replied,' you haven't changed one bit, have ya Bill?' He walking down the small flight of stairs, trying not to burst out laughing at the look that Lestrade had plastered to his face.' You haven't seen hide or hair of me in five years and instead of being angry that I missing, you've chosen the fact to go made that I missed the birthdays of some kids I never knew, until now, existed.' He shook his head at his long term friend.

Before he could open his mouth to say anything else, Bill drew him into his customary bone crushing hug. After a few moments the hug, if that's what you could call it, became awkward followed by extremely awkward.

John cleared his throat, hoping Bill would get the hint. He didn't. John cleared his throat again; louder this time but there was still no reaction. 'Bill, mate, I know it's been a long time,' Bill snorted,' but I'd prefer to not die because you can't catch a hint to save your life. So, and I'll make this perfectly clear for you, let go of me.' Bill reluctantly released him.

Sherlock had to ruin the moment.

'Right, if that will be all, Mi- John, will you come and help with something downstairs.' He didn't even wait for answer before strutting; yes strutting, off towards the direction of 221C. Lestrade gave him a sincere smile before following him. Sam just started laughing, shaking her head.

'Like I said, living with a PI can only go well,' she gave her Dad a small push in the same direction as the two other men had gone in.' Go on, he'll only become annoying to live with if you don't get a move on and I'll talk some more with Uncle Bill while you're doing that.'

John didn't reply and just did as she suggested, but not before he heard Bills comment. 'You are your mother, outside _and _inside ,aren't ya wee rascal.' John couldn't stop his laugh that time.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry this took so long to update. I haven't heard anything from my beta which could be taken as in a number of ways but I prefer to think that my grammar has, some how, become of good quality. Of course, the day that happens pigs will be green and would be hovering everywhere.

Feel free to review, I don't bite-bark yes, bite no. I don't know where you've been!

Possible next post this week... Not a promise but I general idea.

I-O-U-a-picture


	14. Chapter 12 When s hits the fan

Chapter 12- When s*** hits the fan.

Sherlock was working. Her dad was off apologising to Sarah for not making it into work and possibly helping out for nothing to make up for it. Bill had gone home to his, surely, lovely wife and troublesome children that she may, or may not, end up babysitting.

Samantha was bored of Sherlock looking in the microscope at some pollen grain he had found in that horrible pair of trainers he had found in the basement flat, 221C, earlier. If only something interesting would-

The door to the lab opened revealing a mousy looking woman that could be a few years younger than Sherlock with strawberry blonde hair tied up so that it hung over one shoulder. Her makeup was subtle but not done very well nor very badly.

'Hello, Molly,' Sherlock said without even looking up from what he was doing. His tone suggested he couldn't care less if she were there or not.

A few moments after her, a young male entered and he also looked younger then Sherlock but not as young as Molly. He had dark hair and blue eyes that could rival the sky on a bright summer's day. He wore a tight fitting grey shirt and black skinny jeans that showed the colourful bright yellow of his boxers. Molly smiled at him as he put an arm round her waist. They were dating, that much was obvious to Sam.

'Sherlock, this is Jim,' Molly started, 'he works upstairs in IT. It's how we met, actually, an office romance. Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes and…' Molly couldn't figure out what Sam's name was. 'Sam Watson,' She finally supplied.

Sam struggled to restrain her eyes from rolling when Molly started to ignore her. She knew what guys wore, straight guys didn't wear-

'Gay,' Sherlock muttered, finally taking his eyes from the microscope, confirming her suspicions. Sam shot him her infamous 'Mary' glare.' I mean, hey,' Sherlock corrected, hastily, upon seeing it.

Jim meanwhile had moved from Molly's side to what Sherlock was doing. 'I've heard a lot about you.' He started touching some items on the worktop and, inevitably, knocked something over and onto the floor. This time, Sam didn't even bother restraining her eye rolling. Jim placed the fallen item back on the worktop, slipping something under it, and smiled at Sherlock who continued to ignore him.

'Good on you, Sherlock. Ignore the stupid fool,' Sam thought to herself.

When Sherlock didn't reply or even look at him, Jim seemed to get the message. 'Right it was nice meeting you.' Still no response so Sam decided to be polite. 'Yeah, you as well.' Jim looked at her with equal measures of disgust and dislike showed clearly in his blue eyes. Sam just raised one mocking eyebrow.

He turned to Molly, arranged another date and then left without a further word. Molly, however, turned on Sherlock with anger flashing across her eyes.

'What do you mean by 'gay'?'

* * *

Sam didn't see her father or the Consulting Detective for a while after the little encounter with Jim from IT. She had thought it wise to stay at the flat and do some studying rather than chase Sherlock around London. That, she deemed, was her Dad's job.

The morning after meeting Jim, and solving the trainers and some guy who had faked his own death to run off to Columbia to start a new life away from his debts, she found herself eating breakfast in a small diner with Sherlock and her Dad. Well, the Watson's were eating breakfast; Sherlock was looking incredibly disinterested tapping away on the table.

The bloody pink phone was sitting innocently on the table.

Her gaze was so focused on the phone that when it went off, she almost, almost, jumped out her skin. Sam could see the Dad stop eating and watch as Sherlock looked that the message which meant the Bomber had found a new voice.

Three pips sounded followed by the revealing of a picture. The women looked familiar.

'Who is that? That could be literally anyone,' Sherlock complained.

John glanced at the photo. 'No, it's not.' He gestured for Sam to get out of her seat.' You're lucky that I've been more than a little unemployed for the last four years and you're lucky that Mrs Hudson and I watch far too much daytime telly.' Sherlock continued to frown as John walked up to the counter and picked up the TV remote. He proceeded to flick through channels until the very same woman that was on the pink phones screen appeared on the television screen. John shot his daughter a triumphant look to which she rolled her eyes at.

She turned back to Sherlock. 'You boys have fun.'

* * *

**A/N: **Hello there! I feel so bad as this story is nearing the end (not that I've written it down yet). I have written chapter 13 and have sent that to my wonderful beta, IzzyDelta. She is a babe for putting up with all my grammar mistakes.

Hope you liked it.

I-O-U-a-picture

PS Have a look at my buddy, Slightly Improbable, if you like Avengers, Sherlock or Doctor Who humour. I spend a lot of my time annoying her and she puts up with me so she kinda deserves something... I think sugar who have been easier but I think she'll like this as well.


	15. Chapter 13- Bodies Everywhere

Chapter 13- Bodies everywhere

Sam stared on as Sherlock lied to her father's face. Her first clue was his offer to go and buy milk. When had he ever gone to buy milk? Thinking about it, did he even know what milk was or did he think it went round and round the garden like a teddy bear, as well?

Her Dad could be smart but could also be a real dunderhead as well. Sometimes she wondered if men were given common sense or if they had to grow their own after all the stories Bill had told her earlier about her Dad and certain substances containing alcohol.

Funnily enough, that's where the elder Watson was going. To see Bill that is, not to grow common sense. He was meeting him at some pub not far from away and, quote, "probably wouldn't be back for a few hours and don't be surprised if I turn up in the small hours of the morning." As nice as it was to see her dad acting like his old self… if he had a hangover tomorrow morning, there was no way in hell that she was going be helpful. Being quiet just wasn't her area of expertise and she had a feeling that she might be able to persuade Sherlock to help.

As soon as John had left the flat, Sherlock jumped out his chair and was on his laptop, posting a message on his website. Sam had a clear view of it. Clearly, he had forgotten she was there. For a man that was, supposedly, smart; he was a _complete_ idiot.

'And just what do you think you're doing?' she hissed from the sofa. Sherlock stopped typing, moved his head so that it was towards the ceiling and cursed quietly under his breath- a very 'un-Sherlock' thing to do. Slowly, he turned around to look at her.

'How much?' he questioned.

Sam cocked her head to the side. _'What is he on about?'_ she thought. He seriously can't mean… Only one way to find out, 'how much, what?' she replied innocently.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. 'To keep you from telling John what you've just seen, of course.' He stated like it was the most common subject in the world.

Sam pretended to do her "thinking really hard face". After a few moments of "thinking", she had a perfect way of removing the annoying flatmate of his money with attempting to guilt trip him. 'Well, the bond between my Dad and I is very strong and I wouldn't want to betray that bond or the trust I have with him. Then there's the mutual respect we have for each other and the fact he's my only remaining member of my close family that can tell me stuff about my mum and what she was like-'

Sherlock had clearly had enough. 'Fifty pounds, that's enough for that jacket you were saving for.'

Sam tilted her head.' Two things; how is that useful to have in your mind palace? And you are very lucky that I'm easily bought.'

Sherlock nodded his head in the direction of where his coat was,' take the fifty pounds we agreed on, and only that… now remove yourself from my sight.'

Sam smirked, 'with pleasure.'

* * *

Sherlock arrived at the pool where little Carl Powers had died all those years ago. Whoever this 'Moriarty' was, he wouldn't be alone, so he had warned Mycroft (for once) about what he was about to do. Well, indirectly. He had posted the meeting on his website and he knew for a fact that Mycroft monitored it twenty-four-seven. The message was sure to have been received by now, if not... Well, Mycroft was not doing a good job of being the British Government.

The door was open which meant someone was in there and by the scratches around the keyhole; they weren't there for a late night swim.

The swimming pool was eerily quiet. ' _But_,' Sherlock supposed, '_if you were a criminal mastermind that had just been leading quite a few people in a merry dance, being quiet was only logical._'

The chorine smell hit his nose like a tonne of bricks would hit the ground. He hated that smell. It always managed to bring memories of the swimming lessons he was forced to take at the boarding school his parents had sent him to… he could never delete those, no matter how much he tried. Plus, swimming was a good skill to have as he had successfully proved after a few unplanned dips in the Themes.

Light shining in from outside, reflected on the pools continuously moving surface, little blue waves flirted across the tile walls. It could be described as pretty if not for the circumstances before him.

There was a familiar shaped body lying on the tiles a few feet away from a vest covered in explosives. The bodies dirty blond hair was matted with blood and the clothes were also covered in blood. The jeans, shirt collar and jumper… Sherlock only knew one person wore those clothes and had dirty blonde hair.

'He did rather well,' an Irish voice said in a bored tone. 'I expected to find him quicker, a year, maybe two but five? He was good.'

Sherlock spun to get a better look at the owner of the sing song voice.

'Jim Moriarty. Hi.'

'_No_,' Sherlock thought,' _How is that possible?'_

* * *

**A/N: *Peeks round corner* hi... sorry for the astronomically long wait but I have been rather busy with revision, family affairs, writers _freakin'_ block, causing myself more pain by watching new tv shows and writing Merlin fanfiction instead... The latter of which is very entertaining. So yeah, I'll just leave now... Don't be surprised if you don't have any updates on this one in a while or never but I really would prefer if I didn't give up on it so, I will try and finish it- the problem lies with Madame Writers Block.**

**I-O-U-a-picture**


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